


Empty Feeling

by Asdrator



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Tragedy, Ultra Rarepair Big Bang (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26285788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asdrator/pseuds/Asdrator
Summary: Just a few parts of the lives Cyril and Lysithea led together, from the moment they met to the moment they parted.
Relationships: Cyril/Lysithea von Ordelia, background Shamir/Catherine
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Empty Feeling

Living like this wasn’t so bad after all. At least, once Cyril had gotten used to it. Shamir didn’t talk any more than she needed to, but she treated him fairly and was a good teacher, which was better than he had expected after everything that had happened. Life had become a matter of getting out of bed, doing his chores, getting taught by Shamir, doing more chores, and going back to bed. That said, while it was good to help Lady Rhea- at least, he hoped he was helping Lady Rhea, he owed her quite a lot after all- it still felt like something was missing, something important. Something that made this current life of his feel more dull and lackluster than it was at first.

As he drew back his bowstring under his mentor’s watchful gaze, he felt himself become distracted by that empty feeling at the last second. It was only just after he had released the arrow that he realized his aim was off, and he could do nothing but watch as the arrowhead bounced harmlessly off the wall next to the target. Cyril muttered a curse under his breath, but as he reached for another arrow, a hand grabbed his and stop him. It was Shamir, studying at him with a look of concern- or rather, what passed for a look of concern for her.

“Something’s bothering you.” She finally said. It was not a question, it was a statement of fact. Hard as it was to discern what she was feeling- Cyril had only figured it out after months of studying under her- Shamir was quite adept herself at deducing the feelings of others. He would have to ask her how she did it sometime.

“Yeah, something is.” Cyril said, getting his hand out of her grip. “Is that all you wanted to say? Can I get back to practicing now?”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Shamir insisted, her face stern. “Part of becoming good with a bow is learning to focus. If there’s one thing you aren’t right now, it’s focused.” Cyril opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, as if hesitating. “C’mon, you can tell me. You already know I won’t tell anyone.” That much was true, Cyril wasn’t enough of a fool to think otherwise after this long. He’d seen her protect more of Catherine’s secrets than he could count, which was fortunate for Catherine as she couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. The wielder of thunderbrand was about as subtle as a thunderclap, but Shamir more than made up for it, excelling where Catherine failed. They made a good team, though every so often Cyril got the sense that that wasn’t all Shamir wanted.

“I...” Cyril started to speak, but something stopped him, an odd feeling pulling at his gut, and he shook his head. “No, nevermind. Just leave it alone.” As he muttered those words, he turned to leave the practice grounds.

“Cyril, you can trust me. What’s the problem?” Closing the distance between them, Shamir reached to stop him again, but this time her hand was thrown off almost immediately by Cyril.

“Leave it alone!” Cyril shouted, finally expressing his anger. “You aren’t my mom, okay? So stop trying to act like you are!” They both stood in stunned silence, before Cyril ran as fast as he could out of the grounds. “Cyril, wait!” Shamir yelled after him, taking a step forward as if to chase him, but within a moment she had changed her mind, and her hand fell down to her side limply as she let out a tired sigh.

On that fateful day began many changes in Cyril’s life, good and bad both. Looking back on those times, Cyril did not regret much, but those final thoughtless words he had shouted at Shamir that morning were without a doubt in his mind the greatest of those few regrets.  
——————————————————  
As he ran, Cyril felt tears welling up in his eyes, and he stopped momentarily to rub his eyes with his hands. He shouldn’t have said that to Shamir, even if it was true. Cyril had figured that much out not long after he had started running. She had been one of the only people he had gotten along with, but she would hate him now for sure. Nobody in Fodlan had ever liked him after he said what was really on his mind. Not only that but when he brought up his own mother, something really pulled at his heart, and the empty feeling was even more present than before.

As soon as his eyes were clear, Cyril looked around to figure out where he was; he hadn’t actually paid much attention to where he was going, only on putting as much distance between himself and Shamir as possible. Seeing a door in the hallway he had found himself in, Cyril peered inside, and saw shelves and shelves of books. The library. He never used it, himself, but often he got assigned to clean up the place, with the task being hard on old Tomas. It shouldn’t be odd if people saw him here, then, as he was trying to clear his thoughts.

Stepping inside, he shut the door behind him, careful not to slam it shut. Then, taking a seat at one of the tables, Cyril put his head down and sighed softly as he thought about that empty feeling in him that Shamir had noticed was throwing him off. He wondered what it could possibly be. Surely it wasn’t loneliness; with Shamir and Catherine and Rhea and the rest around, he was less lonely than he had ever been in Almyra. Even so, when he thought of his homeland, something pulled at that empty feeling. Surely he wasn’t homesick, of all things, after everything he’d been through? No, that didn’t seem quite right either. Yet it was... related. And the feeling was strongest of all when he thought of Shamir or Catherine. Why those two in particular, he couldn’t figure out for the life of- Oh. So that’s what it was.

He missed his parents.

Before he knew it, tears rolled down his face faster than he could wipe them away, as though his eyes were a pair of bursting dams. This was no good, he couldn’t let people see him like this, he had to be strong. Despite him thinking such things to himself, the tears kept coming and coming. If they had just lived through that fateful battle then... then everything that had happened to him would have never...

So lost in his own thoughts, Cyril didn’t notice the door opening behind him in the slightest. “Oh, hello, haven’t seen you here bef- wait, are you crying?” The voice sounded young, like his own, yet girlish. Most importantly, however, it was a voice he didn’t recognize. With effort, Cyril managed to raise his head and turn to see the library’s other visitor, despite the necessary revealing of his tear-stained cheeks. The girl before him wore the uniform of the officers academy, unchanged from the years before. More unusually, she had long white hair, striking to Cyril as he had never seen the like before, and curious pink eyes that shined with concern. It was a weird feeling, he thought, having people be concerned for him, but coming from her, rather than feeling like a show of pity, it felt... comforting, in a way.

“Yeah.” Cyril finally answered. “Yeah, I am.” He swallowed and wiped his cheeks with the backs of his hands. “Sorry if it bothered you.” He muttered, just in case. You never knew with Fodlanians whether they wanted an apology for the most insignificant inconveniences, especially when it came to an outsider like Cyril.

The girl merely shook her head decisively. “Don’t be. We all need to cry sometime, you know?” She spoke as though from experience. For a moment Cyril wondered what her trouble was, then pushed that thought aside. Whatever she had been through was none of his concern, especially not now. “My name’s Lysithea, Lysithea von Ordelia.” She introduced herself, then extended a hand, which Cyril hesitantly took in his own, prompting her to shake his hand. “What’s yours?”

“Cyril. I don’t got a last name.” He said plainly, using a bored tone to disguise that he was truly interested by her apparent friendliness. Did she not recognize where he was from, or did she just not care about things like that?

“Well, Cyril I-don’t-got-a-last-name, I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to help you feel better?” Lysithea asked, her smile warm and kind. Too kind. He’d known people in the past who’d faked kindness towards him as a means of hurting him. There was no guarantee she wasn’t the same.

With that in mind, Cyril took his hand back and stood up from his chair, eyeing Lysithea suspiciously. It was only now that he noticed they were about the same height- a rare sight for Cyril, due to his youth. If Lysithea was as young as she sounded and looked, Cyril betted it was a rare sight for her too. “No,” He finally said. “Thanks though. If it’s all the same to you, I’m gonna leave now.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Lysithea asked, suddenly concerned.

“Nah, you didn’t. I just have somewhere to be.” He started to move towards the door, then paused, and turned back to Lysithea. “Oh, and- do me a favor, will ya?. Don’t tell anyone I was crying.”

“I can certainly do that much.” Lysithea replied earnestly. “Take care, Cyril. I’m one of the new students who arrived two weeks ago, so I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other around.”

While a bunch of new students had arrived a couple of weeks ago, Cyril had never seen her before. Then again, he was always busy with his chores and practice, so it made sense that he didn’t bother learning what any of the students looked like, especially considering the views some of them held on Almyrans. Though, between Lysithea’s kindness and her striking appearance, he didn’t think he could forget her anytime soon.

After thanking Lysithea for agreeing, Cyril moved to leave once more, though for reasons he did not know at the time, he gave one last quick glance towards Lysithea as he moved through the doorway. Seeing her searching for a book to read with a determined look on her face, Cyril found himself hoping despite himself that he could learn to trust her one day.  
——————————————————  
“I’m sorry for what I said to you, Shamir. Really, really sorry.”

Saying this, Cyril rubbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes tightly. He was prepared to be scolded. He was prepared to be hit. He was prepa-

Instead of scolding him or hitting him, Shamir just pulled him into a tight hug. “You don’t need to apologize, Cyril. I was in the wrong. I shouldn’t have tried to get you to talk about something you weren’t comfortable talking about.” Releasing him from the hug, Shamir stood and stared a moment before suddenly tugging at his cheeks. “That doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you if you keep wasting my arrows. Don’t let anything distract you, got it?”

“Yeth ma’am.” Cyril said, the pulling of his cheeks making speaking proper more difficult. After Shamir let him go, Cyril rubbed his now sore cheeks. At least she wasn’t mad at him.

“By the way...” When Shamir spoke, Cyril looked up curiously. “If you don’t mind my asking, why were you crying? Did somebody hurt you?”

“Huh? You know I was crying?”

“Your cheeks are still wet.” Shamir said with a small smirk, which would have shocked Cyril if he wasn’t distracted by muttering curses and finishing wiping away his tears.

“My parents.”

“Hm?”

“I was crying about my parents.”

Shamir’s expression became dismayed in an instant. “I’m... I’m so sorry, Cyril.” A stiff moment of silence passed between them. “Believe me when I say I know how that feels. If there’s anything I can do to help you feel better, all you have to do is ask.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Shamir. It really means a lot.” Cyril couldn’t help but smile slightly. Today Shamir had spoken more words to him than she had ever before. If she was this worried about him, maybe it wasn’t just tolerance. Maybe she genuinely cared about him. She wasn’t his mom, no, but she didn’t have to be. Being cared about by somebody like that was a nice feeling. Maybe if he trusted Lysithea enough to get to know her, then he’d know more of what that felt like.

“Let’s get back to practicing, shall we?” Shamir offered a bow to Cyril with an extended hand. Taking it and a quiver, Cyril made sure not to let his aim be unduly influenced by his emotions this time.

Next time he met Lysithea, he’d be sure to place a little more faith in her.  
—————————————————————  
As months passed, Lysithea and Cyril steadily became closer and closer. He came to respect her for who she was, and she learned when to offer him help and when to leave him be. They made a good team, and slowly but surely Cyril stopped taking notice of the emptiness in his heart. It was still there, that he was certain of, but most of the time he never stopped to pay attention to it. Especially, he found, when around Lysithea. It felt… pleasant, peaceful almost.

Now, just before the passage of a full year since the arrival of Professor Byleth, Edelgard had taken charge of Adrestia and declared war on the Church. He’d always had a funny feeling about Edelgard; something had always felt off about her, something he had never been able to place until it no longer mattered. All that remained now was to defeat her. If that was still possible, some dark, hidden-away corner of his mind thought. If her plan wasn’t already perfected. Much as he knew he shouldn’t think like that, Cyril couldn’t help getting the funniest feeling that everything was about to change, and not necessarily for the better. 

Shrugging off the doubt as best he could, Cyril continued training with his axe.  
—————————————————————  
Late at night, silently at the entrance to the training area, Lysithea watched observantly as Cyril swung his axe up and down, again and again, feeling some strange feeling stirring in her. Was this- envy? No, that couldn’t be. What did Cyril have that she could possibly envy? A world of troubles with few friends left little to be desired. Yet watching him train for war so eagerly made her feel strangely nevertheless.

“You’re concerned about him.” Shamir said quietly, nearly making Lysithea jump. Leaning against the wall beside the entrance, Shamir looked at Lysithea curiously, though her face was otherwise inscrutable.

Sighing in relief that it was only Shamir who had found her (for if anyone would keep something secret if you wanted, it was Shamir), Lysithea then glared at her. “You could’ve given me a heart attack, you know!” She hissed.

“I couldn’t have, and I certainly didn’t.” Shamir said simply and patiently.

“Whatever! Just don’t sneak up on me like that.” Considering the matter settled, Lysithea returned to watching Cyril practice.

After a moment of silence had passed, save for the sound of the swing of Cyril’s axe through the air, Shamir spoke again. “You’re concerned about him because you’re afraid he’ll get hurt.”

The silence that followed that statement was decidedly more awkward. Finally, Lysithea turned back, a mildly confused look on her face. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds right. I’m amazed you knew what it was when even I didn’t. How’d you…?”

Shamir chuckled, which was certainly far more surprising than her apparent skill with reading emotions. Lysithea hadn’t even known Shamir could laugh. “Let’s just say that I feel the same way, both about Cyril here and about… someone else. Came down here to check on him, as a matter of fact, only to find you.”

“The other person is Catherine, isn’t it?”

For the briefest of moments Shamir’s eyes were wide open in surprise, and Lysithea delighted in being able to catch her off guard. In the blink of an eye, however, her composure returned, and she just stared off into space with a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Am I that obvious?” At the devilish twinkle in Lysithea’s eyes, Shamir suddenly had a change of heart. “On second thought, don’t answer that. Besides, we’re supposed to be talking about you, not me. There’s something else you haven’t said when it comes to Cyril.”

Lysithea froze, hands gripping the outline of the entrance, hesitating whether or not to tell Shamir everything. Trustworthy as Shamir was, she couldn’t be sure- no, if she couldn’t tell Shamir, who could she tell? And it wasn’t wise to keep it bottled up, she knew that much from experience. Finally, with a sigh, she relaxed her hands and gave up. “...Yeah, there is. I’m not only worried about him getting hurt. I’m worried about him losing himself in his anger towards Edelgard. This is the first real war he’ll be fighting in. I have no doubt he’s strong enough for it physically, but…”

“But you’re worried that even if we win he’ll no longer be the same Cyril we all know and love.” Shamir concluded for her.

“Exactly. Wait, no, I don’t love him! Take that back!” Lysithea’s pouting face made Shamir smile once again. These two were just too adorable.

“Fine, fine, as you say. If you really want my thoughts on that, though, I’ll just say this first. He’s going to change as a person no matter what; he’s growing up fast, just like you are. I of all people know how hard it is to accept change, but believe me when I say that learning to tolerate it if you can’t embrace it is a necessary part of being a functioning adult. There’s no changing the fact that he’s not going to be the same Cyril he is now in the future, so you’re going to have to grow with him and continue to accept him for who he is, rather than who he was, or otherwise stop being friends.” The look in Shamir’s eyes become serious and hard as she paused, though Lysithea could see a hint of sadness as well. “That said, if he ever loses himself so much that we can’t recognize him, I’ll be right there with you to knock some sense into him. So don’t worry about a thing, okay? I’ve got your back.”

For some reason, that made Lysithea laugh, which irritated Shamir more than she would ever be willing to admit. She pours her whole heart out into making that big, dumb speech, and the little brat has the nerve to laugh at her. However, her irritation evaporated with Lysithea’s next words. “Thanks, Shamir. I really needed that. I was a fool for worrying with someone like you teaching him.” 

“Not at all.” Shamir told her with an honest smile, belying her true intentions. “It’s never foolish to worry about someone you love.” As Lysithea started cursing Shamir’s name and demanding she once again take it back, Shamir glanced over the shorter girl’s head into the training area. “By the way, looks like all your laughing alerted Cyril to your presence. He’s headed this way.”

Lysithea looked back to Cyril in a panic, and sure enough he was waving and shouting to her. “Hey, Lysithea! You’re free to join me if you want, ya don’t have to just stand there!” Lysithea quickly tried to turn back to Shamir for help, only to discover she had already fled the scene. “Hello? You not hearing me or something?”

As she returned Cyril’s greeting with a forced smile, she promised herself she’d get revenge on Shamir one of these days.

Oh, Goddess, this was embarrassing. Claude would really never let her live this one down.  
—————————————————————  
The month had passed faster than Lysithea wishes it would have, and Edelgard’s army was finally here. Beside her, Cyril sat atop his wyvern, a bow on his back and an axe in his hands. For herself, she carried a healing and magical tome each in her hands. Somewhere ahead of them, out of sight, was the point Shamir and Catherine were defending. Catherine had insisted that Cyril and Lysithea defend an area further in; something about being worried about their safety or some nonsense like that. Despite the best efforts of both Cyril and Lysithea, once Catherine’s mind was set on something, it took somebody like Rhea (or Shamir, lately) to change it. Unfortunately for them, both Shamir and Rhea agreed, and it was settled with Byleth’s acceptance of the arrangement.

Though she had come to terms with it herself, Lysithea could tell that Cyril still badly wanted to be in the action. It was almost funny, how now that she had gotten to know him over the past months she could read his emotions like an open book. She wondered, for the briefest of moments, if he could tell what she was feeling, too.

Sadly it became far less funny the more she saw of the vast ranks of the Adrestian Army. With this many foes, she feared Cyril may very well get his wish to fight for Rhea. The Knights present at the monastery were badly outnumbered, and it showed in the grave looks on almost everyone’s faces.

After what felt like an eternity of hearing the fighting below them, Adrestian forces broke through to their position. Though fear of what had happened to others, to Byleth, Shamir, and Catherine, paralyzed Lysithea momentarily, Cyril urged his wyvern forward without hesitation. Swooping down upon the Adrestians, he cleaved through them mercilessly, the dead and wounded piling up before him. Lysithea hurried to correct her delay in action, providing support with magical attacks against any Adrestians who attempted to flank Cyril. As everyone said, they really did make for a great team. Even with their combined might, however, Lysithea realized they were just delaying the inevitable. “Cyril! We can’t hold them back much longer!” She shouted over the din of the battle.

“I know that, Lysithea! But we don’t have any- NGH!” To her horror, the lance of an Adrestian pierced Cyril’s side, knocking him off his wyvern as blood flooded freely from his wound. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, as a desperate cry escaped her lips and the wyvern without its rider roared at the cheering Adrestians.

Rushing to his side, she reached him just after he hit the ground. It was immediately apparent to her that his injury was mortal, even as she desperately flipped open her healing tome for a spell. Though initially the Adrestians advanced on them slowly, careful to stay wary of the confused and upset wyvern, she paid them no mind. She did not even pay any mind when there was suddenly a much louder roar from below, one which caused the Adrestians before them to run back towards the monastery entrance like humbled jackals with tails between their legs, as the rumbling of collapsing buildings came from the monastery town. All she focused on was healing Cyril’s injury, futile as it seemed to be.

When her work seemed done, she let out a sigh of relief. “I almost thought I’d lose you there, Cyril. You need to be more careful!” However, she received no response. “Cyril?” Silence. “Hey, Cyril, this isn’t funny anymore. Come on, wake up!” However, he did not wake. His death approached, and his pulse weakened with every passing moment. Before she knew it, tears started to stream out of Lysithea’s eyes, and she hugged Cyril close to her. “Oh, Cyril…” She sobbed. Pulling back from the hug for a moment, she decided to do one thing she had never had the courage to before.

She kissed him.

By some miracle which Lysithea could not have explained later if she had tried, her healing magic activated in a much more powerful form, bringing Cyril back from the brink. His pulse quickened, and slowly, but surely, his eyes fluttered open to a surprising sight. Lysithea pulled back from the kiss, expecting the boy she loved to be dead, only to discover that he was, in fact, not. Overcome with relief, her tears started once again, and she pulled him into a tight hug. “Cyril, you big dummy! Why’d you have to go and make me think you were going to die? Oh, I’m so glad you’re safe. Never, ever do that again.”

After overcoming his initial surprise, Cyril saw her open healing tome and realized she had saved him. “I won’t, Lysithea. That’s a promise. I won’t get myself hurt like that from now on.”

“...I love you, Cyril. More than I can say.”

“I love you too, Lysithea.”

As they would later find out, both Byleth and Rhea had disappeared during the battle and they had to flee the monastery for safer lands, two revelations that wounded Cyril deeply. However, he resolved to carry on and continue fighting the Adrestians, not only for Rhea’s sake, but for his own survival, and thereby Lysithea’s happiness.  
—————————————————————  
Five years later, the war still raged on. Despite the best efforts of the Adrestian Empire, both the Kingdom of Faerghus and the Leicester Alliance stubbornly refused to give in, and casualties mounted. Meanwhile, the surviving knights of Seiros still roamed the land, battling any Adrestian forces they could while on their search for their missing archbishop, Rhea. It was becoming clear that all four factions were quickly tiring of the war, so all rushed to deliver a swift conclusion to it.

Although he fought alongside the Knights as bravely as anyone, and stronger than most to boot, Cyril refused to be called a knight. Everyone assumed that it was because he only wanted Rhea herself to knight him, and as that was definitely part of it he did nothing to discourage that belief. However, there was more to it. Cyril no longer saw his actions as worthy of the title. Knights were supposed to be noble, and caring, and kind to everyone- well, maybe not the last part in Shamir’s case, but Cyril couldn’t blame her with some of the people he’d had to deal with. In any case, they were the exception, not the rule, or at least that’s how it should be. What was noble or caring or kind about what he did? Was there kindness in senseless killing? Was there really some sort of nobility in warfare? The nobles of Fodlan clearly believed so, but Cyril found that an Adrestian count bled the same as an Adrestian commoner. Sometimes he did wonder if justice was really on their side.

There was no use worrying about that now though, is what he kept trying to tell himself. There were more important things to be done.

However, one fateful day the Knights had decided to return to the monastery, to use their abandoned former home as an operating base for their search. Rather than a garrison of Adrestians, or even the place being as unoccupied as it had been for most of the war, they found the corpses of dead bandits, with Professor Byleth and her students standing victorious. It was a heartening sight to most, though for his part Cyril just wondered what Byleth had been doing these past five years. If this was some kind of trap…

It wasn’t, however. After leaving Seteth to speak with Byleth, Cyril set out to explore the old monastery and looked sadly at how much had changed. In the crumbling chapel, however, he saw somebody he had never expected to see again.

It was Lysithea, kneeling before the broken statue of Fodlan’s Goddess in prayer.

For a moment he was stunned by the sight. His eyes were wide, his mouth gaped, and his legs refused to move an inch. Five long years, of worrying whether she was alive or dead, and here she was before him, perfectly unharmed. He tried to bring himself to speak, but no words came out of his throat.

Five years ago, in the aftermath of the Battle of Garreg Mach, Cyril had followed Seteth in the search for Rhea, while Lysithea had chosen to go with Claude to aid in the defense of Leicester. Their parting had not been an easy one, both reluctant to leave each other after they had just declared their love, but it was unavoidable. They had different goals, and different places they belonged. A noble of Leicester like Lysithea was probably most comfortable among other nobles, while Cyril wasn’t really accepted anywhere except the Church. At least, that’s what he told himself to be able to sleep at night these past five years knowing he couldn’t protect her. Wondering if he had made the right choice.

Her prayer finished, Lysithea stood up and turned around, only to find Cyril standing there, looking shocked. “Cyril? Is that you?” Despite the question, she already knew the answer. She would recognize him no matter how much time had passed. “It is you! You’ve grown so tall and handsome, I couldn’t be certain for a moment!” Running towards him, she threw her arms around him in an embrace. “Oh, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

With a moment’s hesitation, though fast enough that it did not seem strange, Cyril returned the hug and took in Lysithea’s sweet scent. He had missed her too, more than his words could possibly express. “...Yeah. I might have forgotten all about you, though, sorry.” The joke earned him a playful smack on the shoulder, and then they both laughed and let go of each other.

For a moment they just held each other’s hands and stared into each other’s eyes, like there was nobody else in the world. There may as well not have been, for all they cared. It was then that Cyril noticed just how beautiful Lysithea had become; no matter how tall or handsome she thought he was, it surely paled in comparison to her delicate skin and gorgeous hair and intelligent eyes. Cyril knew better than to think a soft and delicate appearance meant weakness, however. Lysithea was one of the toughest people he had ever known, and that was quite a long list to be near the top of. He loved her all the more for that toughness, and thought it just as important as her beauty and intelligence. For, if she wasn’t as tough as she was, she wouldn’t be Lysithea, or at least, not the one he knew.

“Hey, Lysithea?” A serious look fell across his face.

“Yes, Cyril?” She continued to look up at him, a loving smile on her face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay with you these past five years. I-“

“Nope. No apologizing for that.” Despite the fact that he knew Lysithea well enough to know she would never change her mind on this topic, Cyril decided to give it another shot.

“But I-“ He was cut off even faster this time.

“You’re your own person, Cyril. There’s no need to apologize to me for pursuing your own goals. I respect you as a person even before I… well, I love you, silly.” A rosy tint appeared on her cheeks. “So don’t go apologizing for things only somebody who didn’t love you would be mad about. Have more faith in your decisions, okay, Cyril?”

“...Thanks, Lysithea.” Cyril said with the most genuine smile he’d put forth in years. “That means a lot. God, I missed you so much.” Leaning down slightly, he pulled her into a kiss, the first they’d shared in five years. It was all the sweeter for it.

Unbeknownst to the two, Shamir and Catherine watched them from the entrance of the chapel. “Ahhhh, they’re so CUTE!” Catherine exclaimed, struggling to keep her voice down. “Thanks for thinking of tailing Cyril, I definitely wouldn’t have wanted to miss this. It’s like they were made for each other.” Next to her, Shamir let out a small giggle, causing Catherine to gasp.

“Was that a laugh I just heard?”

“No.”

“Do it again! Come on, please?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re no fun.”

Even as Catherine went back to watching the young couple in the ruined chapel, Shamir studied her face with a small smile. Seeing young love like this reminded her of just how much she loved her wife.  
—————————————————————  
After the war, Fodlan became united, and with their mission accomplished Lysithea and Curil decided to leave the land behind and make a new life for themselves. They moved into a small house in Almyra, close to a cozy village in the mountains, and kept in touch with their old friends through King Khalid of Almyra, formerly known as Claude von Riegan. Their life became nothing particularly notable, but it was all they wanted, and as long as they were together, they were happy.

“Hey, Lysithea, I’m home!” Cyril called out as he walked in through the front door, a bow on his back and a small bag in his hands. When he received no response, he tried again. “Lysithea?” Despite his concerned tone, he still didn’t receive any response, so he ran to the room he shared with Lysithea, beginning to panic. Hurriedly opening the door to their room, he saw that she was sound asleep in their bed, and smiled out of relief. Yes, she would be fine… he had no reason to worry, really. She was tough enough to get past this, and then they’d be able to live full lives as a happy family together.

Pulling up a chair to the side of her bed, Cyril sat there watching her breathe softly with a warm smile on his face. It had been three years since they had gotten married in a small private ceremony in the Almyran capital, and Cyril didn’t regret his vows for a moment. In sickness and in health, til death do they part… no matter how difficult it could be, he wouldn’t let Lysithea feel alone for a second, for the rest of her life.

Brushing the hair from her forehead, Cyril leaned down and gave her a kiss right on top of it. As he sat back up, Lysithea began to groan and blink awake. “Ah, you’re already awake, Lysi? You must be getting better.” As confident as he tried to sound, he knew the words were hollow; there was no getting better with her condition, not any that continued research into crestology had yet found. All they had developed was medicine that alleviated the symptoms, contained in the bag Cyril had brought with him. It was always a pain getting it from the apothecary in the Almyran capital, but it was worth it to relieve Lysithea’s suffering even for a second.

“...Cyril? Oh, my medicine. Thanks again.” Lysithea mumbled, as she sat up and took the bag out of his hands. Though she looked much more haggard than she had in years past, her beauty had never diminished in the slightest for Cyril.

“It isn’t a problem. I love you, Lysi. Focus on getting better.” As he got up to leave the room and let Lysithea rest, he felt a hand tug of his shirt. “Huh? Oh, you need something?”

Lysithea shook her head slowly. “No, just wanted to say that… I love you too. Please, take care of yourself. I want you to be ok as well.”

Pausing for a second, Cyril nodded with a smile. “Ok, Lysi. I’ll do just that. Rest well now.”

A year later, shortly after having given birth to her and Cyril’s daughter Nasrin, Lysithea passed away in her sleep. Though he took care of himself as she had asked him to do, it wasn’t the same as when she had been around. Yet, it was familiar all the same.

The empty feeling had returned.


End file.
